


If You're Warm, Then You Can't Relate To Me

by gothpandaotaku



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark, Dark Dean, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s10e22 The Prisoner, Fix-it in second chapter by popular demand, Guilty Dean, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mpreg, Mpreg Sam, OTP Feels, Possessive Dean Winchester, Pregnant Sam, Sam Whumpage, Sastiel Subtext, Season/Series 10, Slightest hint of Sastiel, Soulmates, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Wincest - Freeform, mostly friendship though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothpandaotaku/pseuds/gothpandaotaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S10E22 The Prisoner. "You know what I think? I think it should be you up there." The words keep running through Sam's head, like a song on repeat. The worst part is, he agrees with Dean. It should be him up there.<br/>How the hell is he supposed to tell Dean he's pregnant now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I own NOTHING.  
> Idea from the wonderful tina-hale on tumblr.

_Try to hear my voice  
You can leave, now it's your choice_

_Maybe if I fall asleep, I won't breathe right  
Maybe if I leave tonight, I won't come back_

_I said it before, I won't say it again_  
_Love is a game to you, it's not pretend_  
_Maybe if I fall asleep, I won't breathe right_

 _Can nobody hear me?_  
_I got a lot that's on my mind_  
_I cannot breathe_  
_Can you hear it, too?_

 _You kiss and you kiss_  
_And you love and you love_  
_You got a history list and the rest is above_  
_And if you're warm, then you can't relate to me_  
_From the floor to the floor_  
_And the sky to the sky_  
_You've got to love and adore and the rest is awry_  
_And if you're warm, then you can't relate to me_

_-“Hear Me” by Imagine Dragons_

* * *

 

_“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there.”_

_“You know what, Dean? I wish it was.”_

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Sam stood in front of the bathroom mirror staring at his still flat stomach. It wouldn’t be for too much longer. He absentmindedly ran a hand over it, trying to imagine what it would look like when it begins to swell. Logically, he knew it would, but he just couldn’t picture it. He’d taken the test four times over but still had trouble wrapping his head around it.

It had been six weeks since he’d first found out. Three since they’d put Charlie to rest. By Sam’s calculations he was about two months along; he hadn’t actually gone to see a doctor. Couldn’t muster up the willpower. Did having something he already knew confirmed really matter when the most important thing was getting the Mark off his brother?

Getting the Mark of Cain off Dean was his first priority.

But still… when he lay awake at night, he couldn’t but wonder what it would be like if he managed to scrounge up enough courage to tell Dean. He’d wanted to so, so bad, but then—

_“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there.”_

Everything fell apart after that. Dean went on a rampage, killing all the Stines in cold blood. The Stines had needed to be dealt with, and he couldn’t really blame his brother; he’d wanted revenge too… just not like that. That had been a massacre.

Dean had been avoiding Sam almost completely since then. He was almost never at the bunker anymore, taking off god knew where and not coming back for days on end. The one time he’d tried to ask Dean where he went he’d gotten a punch in the face as a response. He didn’t know what else to do, so he stood there silently as his brother walked away.

 _‘I’ll tell him next time_ ,’ Sam thinks. But every time Dean wanders in like a stray cat the words get caught in his throat and they feel like they’re slowly choking the life out of him every time he opens his mouth. What was he supposed to say anyway? _‘Hey, I know you hate me more than anything right now and wish I was nothing more than ash, and oh yeah, we still have to get that pesky Mark of Cain off you before you become a demon again, but we’re having a baby! Great timing, right?’_

Yeah, no.

So Sam keeps his mouth shut and lets his tears fall in silence where no one can see him.

* * *

 

It was in such a moment that Cas dropped in to see Sam for the first time since they’d received Charlie’s email and relayed it to Rowena.

Sam was looking through the Men of Letters library for what had to be the hundredth time when he came across a small paperback book hidden between two large hardcover tomes. Curious, he pulled it out and blew gently over it to dust it off. Finally able to read the title, he could see that it was a pregnancy book from the fifties.

There were so many more important things he could be doing right now. Things he _should_ be doing. Like, trying to save his brother. After several minutes of internal debate, Sam’s thirst for knowledge won out and he opened to the first page. Written in an elegant scrawl on the inside cover were a pair of initials: _H.W._

Henry Winchester? It was certainly from the right time period…

He quickly turned the page, and the next one, and the next one, until before he knew he was on chapter ten. Henry Winchester had written notes in the margins of the pages throughout the entire book, almost like a journal, and Sam was entirely engrossed. It wasn’t until he came across a passage detailing the moment when Henry found out his wife was pregnant that the spell was broken.

_She pulled me into our bedroom, lifted up her shirt to show me her ever so slightly rounded belly, and grabbed my hand only to gently set it on her stomach. Then she whispered the four most beautiful words I have ever heard with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen written across her face, “We’re having a baby.”_

The burn of tears in his eyes surprised Sam and before he knew it the tears were spilling over. He wiped at his eyes, trying to stop, but they just kept coming and coming, as if a damn had finally broken. And then he just gave up. He gave in to the trembling and the sobs and let them take over. Why should he care, he was alone. So alone. More alone than he had ever been, really. The thought made him cry even harder.

Cas found him like that, bawling like a baby. Sam hadn’t even noticed the angel’s presence, too wrapped up in his own misery. Because he was never going to be able to have that moment with Dean. Never going to be able to say ‘we’re having a baby’ and have Dean smile at him like he was giving him the greatest gift he’d ever received. He’d imagined it like that once, late at night as he’d tried to fall asleep. He’d had nightmares that night.

A feather light touch of a hand on his shoulder alerted Sam that he wasn’t alone in the library. He shot out of his chair and tried to blink away the blurriness left by tears. When he saw that it was only his friend he breathed a small sigh of relief, urging his heart to calm down. He rubbed at his swollen eyes before turning to the angel.

“Hey Cas, what are you, uh, what are you doing here?” Sam asked, avoiding the concerned blue eyes boring into him.

“I came to check on Dean’s, and your, well-being. Sam, you are crying. Why are you crying?” The angel asked bluntly.

“It’s, um,” Sam cleared his throat while trying to think of something, anything to say to make this less awkward, “It’s nothing. It’s fine, I’m not crying anymore, so…” Even he thought his attempt at lying was lame.

“Humans do not cry when nothing is wrong. Something must be wrong. Tell me what is wrong, Sam, I wish to help.”

Sam bit his lip. Should he tell Cas? No, he couldn’t, because he might tell Dean, and Dean _can’t_ know. At least, not until the Mark was gone, then maybe…

The angel took a step forward, only to trip on a book left forgotten on the floor. He managed to right himself before he collided with the table, but nearly crashed into Sam’s abdomen in the process—

“Cas, what happened? Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen an angel trip before.” Sam said, offering a hand to help him up.

The angel took it and blurted out in one fast breath, “Sam, you are pregnant.”

Sam froze, a steady chorus of _‘oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit’_ running through this head. He opened his mouth to deny it, but immediately realized the futility of it. Cas was an angel. The most he could do was beg him not to tell Dean.

“How’d you know?” Sam asked quietly.

“I can feel it. A soul slowly forming inside you. It’s so small that I did not immediately sense it before, not until I was close to your abdomen.”

“Please don’t tell Dean, please Cas. He has enough to deal with right now,” Sam pleaded. “He’s not really himself and I’m… I’m scared of what he’ll do.”

“Scared? Dean would never hurt you, not intentionally,” Cas cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“I’m not scared that he’ll hurt me physically, Cas,” Sam chuckled bitterly. He swallowed back tears that threatened once again to fall. “I’m scared that he won’t care. That would hurt most of all.”

* * *

 

Cas visited him often after that. He popped in almost every day, just to check in on Sam. Sometimes he’d even stay for dinner. Other times he’d help him with research, retrieving the heaviest tomes so Sam wouldn’t have to lift them. He told Cas that he was barely pregnant and lifting something like that wouldn’t do anything to the baby, but the angel wasn’t having any of it. His motherhenning was kind of… cute.

It was almost how he imagined Dean would act.

_“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there.”_

That line of thinking wouldn’t get him anywhere, so Sam turned back to research.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until a stormy night when he was four months along that Sam realized just how much he’d begun to depend on the angel.

Dean had come home that night, a rare occurrence, so Sam had tried to get him to talk. Again. _This time_ he’d be able to get it right and tell his brother.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Sam said softly as he entered the kitchen where he’d heard Dean moving around shortly after his arrival.

“Didn’t Cas give you the message? I told you to stay away from me.” His voice was colder than Sam remembered it ever being. He proceeded to ignore Sam and shift through the fridge, shoulders tense. “Where the fuck is the beer?”

“I just need to tell you something, and then you can… you can go, if that’s what you want, okay?”

“What I want is a goddamn beer and for you to get out of my way,” Dean hissed. “FUCK!” He shouted and proceeded to throw everything out of the fridge. Bottles, cans, condiments, and leftover food ended up on the floor and the wall with enough force to unnerve Sam.

“Dean, STOP!” Sam yelled as he dodged an old head of lettuce thrown his way. His brother paused, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was all over. He wasn’t paying enough attention to dodge the bottle of soda. It hit him on his left shoulder; glass getting lodged painfully in his skin and soda spilling everywhere. “STOP IT ALREADY!”

“Oh, I’ll stop.” Dean slowly turned around and stalked toward Sam menacingly. This wasn’t his brother. This was a predator. He didn’t stop until he had Sam backed up against a corner, shaking. He pulled his fist back, punching Sam again and again and again. “I’ll stop when you stop letting everyone we’ve ever cared about die. I’ll stop when you stop fucking up everything good in our lives. I’ll tell you one last time: _I don’t wanna see your face again._ ”

With that, Dean turned and walked away.

_“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there.”_

For some stupid reason Sam’s legs wouldn’t listen to him and he slid to the floor in a puddle of sticky soda. His entire body hurt and he couldn’t see out of his left eye and his shoulder was fucking burning, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He prayed for the ground to swallow him whole. That would be kinder than this.

“Sam, what’s going on? I heard your prayer, you sound like you’re in pain—SAM?” The angel rushed over to his friend and assessed the damage. There was quite a bit of glass sticking out of his shoulder, oozing blood, but nothing life threatening. It appeared most of the damage done was psychological, judging by the trembling and the way Sam had trouble catching his breath.

“Did Dean do this?” Cas asked softly. His friend looked like he would break into pieces at any moment.

After several moments of tense silence, in which Cas was sure he wasn’t going to get an answer, Sam nodded slightly.

That made Cas’ blood boil and heart hurt at the same time. They _needed_ to get the Mark of Cain off Dean NOW. In the meantime, all he could do was heal Sam and be there for him.

“I can heal your arm… but I’m not sure if I can heal everything else,” Cas admitted. When he merely received another terse nod in response he got to work, putting a gentle finger on Sam’s forehead.

His shoulder was completely healed, and he could see out of his eye again, but he would still definitely have a black eye for several days. Sam would take what he could get.

Cas stayed by Sam’s side the entire night. He refused to leave when Dean could come back at any minute.

He stood watch in a chair next to Sam’s bed as they listened to the rain and thunder together. Cas idly thought it was a beautiful melody. When the nightmares started he entwined Sam’s hand in his and stayed like that through the rest of the night, calming him whenever he would call out Dean’s name.

* * *

 

When Sam was five months along, nearly six, he felt the baby kick for the first time.

He and Cas were in the library, another day of research since Cas refused to let Sam do anything else. He was reaching for a book on a shelf that was high even for him when he felt this… this _fluttering_ in his stomach that quickly grew more intense until it felt like a tiny little _kick_. The shock of it took his breath away more than anything, causing him to gasp.

“Sam? Is something wrong?” Cas hurried to Sam’s side, automatically checking him over for injury.

“No, Cas, it’s just…” Sam struggled to catch his breath. “The baby, it’s kicking!” The realization that it was actually his baby _(his and Dean’s baby)_ moving made his lips curve up into a small, tentative smile.

“That’s, that’s incredible,” Cas smiled along with him. He stared at Sam’s stomach intently, which was covered by a tee shirt big even on Sam and a baggie hoodie. Sam noticed this, and a thought occurred to him.

“Did you wanna, uh, feel it?” Sam asked awkwardly.

“Feel the baby kicking?”

“Yeah, go ahead. It’s okay, it won’t bite,” Sam chuckled, and the action shocked him. He shouldn’t be feeling this _light_ when Dean was god knew where doing god knew what and he wasn’t even himself anymore—

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Cas bending over slightly until his hands were already on his stomach. He looked like he was concentrating intensely, but after a couple minutes pulled away with a heavy sigh. “I can’t feel anything.”

He looked so disappointed that Sam took pity on him. “Here.” Sam pulled up his hoodie and shirt and pulled Cas’ hands onto his bare skin. Once again the angel appeared to be concentrating, closing his eyes as he felt he swell of Sam’s stomach. It was a very small swell; Cas had encouraged Sam to eat more, but he just couldn’t hold it down. He’d had persistent problems with morning sickness his whole pregnancy.

“I feel it!” Cas exclaimed with a bright smile on his face, nearly startling Sam. “I can feel it kicking, and I can feel its soul… Sam, this child’s soul… it’s going to be _beautiful_. I know it.”

For the first time in months, Sam smiled a genuine smile from ear to ear.

* * *

 

Dean came home again that night.

Sam hadn’t been expecting it, so his guard was down when his brother nonchalantly strode into the kitchen once again. God, but he’d missed his brother so much, and when he saw him it took all his strength to ignore the urge to run to him and pull him into a hug. But his wasn’t Dean, not really. He could tell just by his stance and his cold eyes that nothing had changed since last time.

“Dean what are you doing here?” Sam asked hesitantly, avoiding blatantly staring.

“I _live_ here. Heck, I have more of a right to be here than you do,” Dean shot back. He ignored Sam and went straight to the fridge.

“We _need_ to talk. No getting out of it this time, just listen to me-”

“So what, so you can tell me you fucked up again? Did you get someone else killed? Who is it this time?” Dean sneered.

“Will you listen to me for one goddamn minute?” Sam shouted. “I’m-”

“I. Don’t. Care. What. You. Are.” Dean struck out faster than Sam could see and landed a blow to Sam’s side, narrowly missing his stomach. Sam fell to the floor, cradling his stomach, and immediately struggled to get back up. Dean wouldn’t let him. He kicked and he kicked until Sam was sure he had broken ribs. But he refused to let Dean land a blow to his stomach.

Dean noticed this, and it pissed him off. “What’s wrong, Sammy? Got a stomach ache? Maybe I can make that better for ya.” He stomped on one of Sam’s hands protecting his stomach until he heard a crunch. Sam pulled it away, crying out, and he took the opportunity to land a particularly hard blow directly to Sam’s stomach.

Sam screamed.

It should have felt good, it was what he _wanted_ , but the broken sobs coming out of his little brother just felt… wrong.

“Cas,” Sam sobbed. “CAAAASSS!”

Why was he calling for that sorry angel? Where was the satisfaction he was supposed to feel after feelings bones snap and break under him?

Blood began to seep from somewhere out of Sam’s body. It started slow but then it started coming faster and faster until it was a nice puddle on the floor. This confused Dean and made him pause. He didn’t remember hurting Sam _that_ bad. And it looked like it was coming from Sam’s …jeans? What the fuck? Everything felt _wrong_ and Dean felt himself growing pissed in response.

“Sam? What hap—oh my god.” Cas appeared in the kitchen before them, dropping to his knees in horror in the moment he saw Sam’s state. He noticed he’d dropped into something sticky and it took him a moment to realize it was blood.

“Cas, save him, save him, you have to save him,” Sam choked out. He was about to pass out, but he _had_ to tell Cas to save his son. It wasn’t a sure thing, but Cas and he agreed that the baby felt like a boy. If he died, Sam would die too.

_“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there.”_

He’d welcome it.

The last thing he heard before the darkness swallowed him whole was Cas whispering that everything would be okay, that he’d heal this…

Dean didn’t like this. It was _all wrong_. Sam should not be desperate for the angel like that. Cas should not touch Sam so familiarly like that. Sammy was _his_.

_Sammy?_

For a moment, it felt like _something_ was about to break through the red haze of anger and rage.

Cas gently picked up Sam in his arms, and the moment was gone. “Don’t touch him,” he growled.

The angel turned to him with a considerable amount of rage of his own. “You did this! Because of your misguided attempts to fight alone, Sam’s… I need to take him to the emergency room.”

“I said don’t touch him!” Dean made a move towards him, as if to grab Sam from him, but Cas stepped back.

“Hurt him one more time and I don’t know if I will be able to respect Sam’s wishes to resolve this as painlessly as possible for you. And Dean?”

“What,” he spat.

“I hope you’re content with your loneliness, because you probably just killed your own son. _Sam is pregnant._ ”

With the sound of wings beating, he was gone.

* * *

 

“You’re lucky. Another inch to the right and you would have lost _both_ your children.” The doctor put a sonogram photo on display for Sam and Cas to see.

“There were… two?” Sam whispered, speaking for the first time since waking up in a hospital bed.

The doctor nodded. “Baby B was very sneaky and hid behind and a little to the right of Baby A. Thus, Baby A received the brunt of the force… you did say this happened as a result of a mugging, right?”

Sam nodded idly and turned to the window by his bed. He could hear the doctor rambling about how it was a miracle and prenatal care but didn’t really care. He could feel the weight of Cas’ concerned eyes on him, but couldn’t bring himself to comfort him. Nothing was going to be alright after this.

_“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there.”_

Sam really wished it was, too.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own a whole lot of NOTHING.
> 
> I have to say, I was OVERWHELMED at the response to the first chapter. Holy shit. I hadn't expected to continue this, but by general consensus (read: every single comment) demanded that I write a fix-it chapter. So here you go! Thank y'all for the lovely feedback on the first chapter and I hope this one lives up to the hype... ugh, now I'm getting nervous...

It was kind of funny.

At first, Sam hadn’t been sure he even _wanted_ to keep it. There was absolutely no room for anything but ways to get the Mark off Dean. Certainly not a _baby_. For a moment he entertained the notion of just getting rid of it. It would definitely be easier, perhaps even kinder. With an emotionally unstable (and possibly murderous) hunter for a father and an equally emotionally unstable (and possible suicidal) hunter for its… other father, the thing probably wouldn’t survive very long in the first place.

And then he realized—this was _Dean’s_ child. _Dean’s_ baby. His strong, beautiful, perfect, pure, big brother’s baby.

And from that moment on he loved it like he hadn’t loved anything else.

How could he ever get rid of something, anything, that was part of Dean? _(What may be the ONLY part of Dean left, a traitorous voice in the back of his head whispered)_

It didn’t matter that, technically, it was part of him, too. That this child could potentially be damned by default of Sam being it’s… other father. That it might have _demon blood_ running through its veins. It was Dean’s baby, and that canceled everything else out. Hopefully it would cancel out the curse of demon blood too.

So when the doctor said he was _lucky_ to have lost one baby instead of two?

It was just another way he’d fucked everything up. Except this time, it was so much worse. A thousand times worse, because this was _part of Dean_. This was Dean’s family he’d destroyed, _again._ How many times would he break it, he wondered? Until there was nothing left?

_Of course_ he would screw _this_ up too. It made perfect sense, so why did he ever think anything different? Why had ever thought, even for one stupid, pathetic second, that something good could possibly come out of this? He’d already lost one child of Dean’s, what was to stop him from losing the second?

Yeah, he’d hit the fucking jackpot.

“Sam?” Cas’ firm tone snapped Sam out of the circle his mind was running in. When the angel saw he finally had his friend’s attention he said in a softer tone, “I’ve been calling you for five minutes.”

“Sorry.” Sam didn’t know what else to say. There _was_ nothing else to say.

“It’s not-”

“ _It’s not your fault Sam?_ Is that what you’re gonna tell me, Cas? Really? How stupid do you think I am? Of course it’s my fucking fault! I wasn’t strong enough!”

“You ARE strong, Sam!” Cas shouted, slamming his fist down onto the tiny table connected to Sam’s hospital bed. “You are the strongest person I know. Time and time again you have defeated great evil through sheer willpower alone. You defeated the archangel _Lucifer_. You’ve sacrificed so much and… and this is what you receive in return? I’m—I’m going to fix this, somehow-”

“You? Fix this? _There is no fixing this!_ ” Sam hissed between gritted teeth. He’d been avoiding the angel’s gaze for as long as he could, but when the room fell silent his curiosity got the better of him and he turned to look at Cas.

He looked sad. Sad, and incredibly small, which no angel of the lord, even a fallen one, should ever look. It made Sam’s heart break that one piece more until it felt like it was actually shattering into a million pieces that he couldn’t hold back and surely he had to be falling apart physically too, right? There had to be some kind of physical indication that he was literally breaking into pieces? Because surely pain this bad, this horrible, this earthshattering, this all-encompassing could be _seen_?

Cas watched with a heavy heart as tears slowly began spilling over Sam’s hazel eyes, coming faster every passing second until he was hiccupping and his entire body was wracked with sobs. Without conscious thought he took the few steps to pull Sam into his arms. It surprised the angel when Sam immediately clung to him as if without his support, the hunter would fall to pieces.

“Dean,” Sam sobbed into Castiel’s shoulder, “Dean, sorry, I’m sorry, _Dean_.”

It was a long night.

* * *

 

Sam is released from the hospital two days later, against medical advice. Cas didn’t argue (at least not much, anyway) since it was obvious Sam wouldn’t be getting any better laying in a hospital bed doing nothing but staring out the window, drugged up on pain killers and miserable.

The angel took him home to the bunker and put him to bed right away. Sam slept for two more days straight, only waking to take more medicine. When it appeared Sam would remain silent for the third day in a row, Castiel had had about enough and took matters into his own hands.

“You know, Sam,” Cas started, speaking quietly, almost a whisper to not startle Sam, “You’re not alone. You’re never alone,” he pointed towards Sam’s stomach, “And never forget, I am always on your side.”

It was the most perfect thing Cas could have said.

Sam could wallow in his misery… or he could _do_ something about it. Like Cas said, he still had one more chance to get this right. One little life completely and utterly dependent on him to survive. And Sam would not let it down, or he would die trying. Just like he would cure Dean of the Mark of Cain, no matter the consequences.

“You know,” Sam responded just as quietly, “I always knew Dean wanted a family. He never put it into words, but I knew. It was in the way he interacted with kids, the way he stared at _normal_ families with a, a longing… but he would never let himself have that. He wouldn’t let himself be happy. We never talked about having kids, but if he’d asked me… I would have, Cas. I would have given him anything. So when I found out I was, you know, and I could give him that family… I saw hope. For the first time in a long time I could see that there might be a meaning to all this. But the Mark had already taken over enough that… I couldn’t tell him.”

“If Dean was himself right now, you know he would be overbearing in his protectiveness of you,” Cas offered. “He wouldn’t let you lift a coffee cup.”

Sam chuckled slightly. “Yeah, probably not. He would be _unbearable_. He wouldn’t let me do anything, and I’d get mad and we probably wouldn’t talk to each other for hours. But when he came back to the bunker after storming out he’d have a bag of whatever I was craving at the time and shove it in my hands as a peace offering; his ears red. We’d eat and everything would be okay again.” Sam swallowed heavily. “I want that, Cas. More than anything.”

“You’ve given Dean family, Sam. You are everything to him. I’m sorry he can’t see that right now, but mark my words, we are going to get the Mark off him and everything will be as it should.”

* * *

 

The moon was at its highest point in the sky and crickets were chirping when Dean made his move. It was child’s play sneaking into the bunker; his home. It angered him that he had to break in like some uninvited guest, but managed to resist the urge to trash the whole place in retaliation. It would make a good point, but would be quite counterproductive.

Quieter than a mouse Dean made his way into Sam’s bedroom. When he saw the angel watching over his brother like a sentry, asleep in a chair next to Sam’s bed, he clenched his fists, ready to feel Cas’ bones snap underneath them. That wasn’t why he came here, Dean reminded himself. He came to see Sam, _his_ Sam.

It had been bothering him, the last words Cas had said to him before poofing off. _Sam’s pregnant_. Surely that was a mistake. Sam would have told him. Right? But… what if? _What if_ Sam was pregnant?

Just the thought of it made Dean’s blood boil. Sam was _not allowed_ to keep things from him.

Silently, he crept towards Sam’s bed and pulled back the thick blue comforter that looked like new (Had Sammy gone shopping without him? He didn’t like that idea.) covering his brother’s form. What he saw took his breath away.

Sam, stomach swollen with _his_ child. Belly round with the growing life inside it. Everywhere else on Sam’s body seemed somehow smaller, skinnier, as though his stomach was taking all of his energy. A foreign emotion washed over Dean in that moment: a little spark of, not quite happiness, but akin to it. He and Sammy were having a baby, they were going to be parents—

“ _I hope you’re content with your loneliness, because you probably just killed your own son_.”

No, that couldn’t be. He didn’t, he didn’t— _what’s another dead and gone because of you? You know you love it. You revel in it. Now take what’s yours._

**_‘Mine,’_** a voice in Dean’s head whispered. _Mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE…_

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his brother’s swollen belly _(to take what is his)_ but a sleepily murmured “Dean…” stopped him in his tracks.

In the blink of an eye he was gone, brother and angel none the wiser.

* * *

 

“SAM!” Castiel’s shout echoed throughout the bunker, startling Sam out of his fitful sleep. He shout out of bed, on autopilot, grabbing his gun along the way.

“Cas?! What’s going on?” Sam called as he rounded a corner into the library, gun at the ready. The angel raised an eyebrow at his paranoia and he immediately lowered the gun, feeling his face flush as he realized there was no danger.

A lopsided grin crept across Cas’ face and Sam felt his own spirits raise in return. “Rowena may have found a way to get the Mark off Dean without using The Book of the Damned.”

* * *

 

“This is a stupid idea—no, it’s not stupid, it’s _insane_ ,” Sam grumbled, yet continued to search one of the Bunker’s store rooms for the required ingredients for the spell.

“It’s the only idea we have that does not involve the possibility of allowing great evil into this world,” came Castiel’s dry voice from behind a bookshelf to Sam’s left. They’d already found three of the five ingredients and now just needed some incredibly rare herbs.

“Really? So ripping Dean’s and mine souls out and just _hoping_ that my soul wins the boxing match is the best idea to you?”

“Sam, I have complete and utter faith in you and your soul. It’s risky, but I have a good feeling about it.”

The room was silent after that, save for the shuffle of boxes. It was a comfortable silence though, perhaps more than comfortable than either of them cared to admit. They made a really good team. Cas was the one person besides Dean he would allow himself to be even remotely vulnerable with.

Eventually they found their way to the same shelf. Distracted, Sam didn’t notice Cas was right next to him until their hands brushed as they reached for the same item. For a moment Sam was left surprised at how _warm_ Castiel’s hand had felt.

“Sorry,” they said at the same time, only to chuckled as the awkwardness of the situation got to them.

“Dean would say that is the lamest opening of a porno he’d ever seen… so, uh, speaking of Dean, is the reason you think Dean and I can basically go halfsies on a soul is because we’re, um…”

Castiel looked a little surprised at first, probably about the direction their conversation had taken from porn to souls, but answered, “Soulmates, yes.” He said it as if they were talking about the weather, not noticing Sam’s disbelieving expression.

“And heaven is okay with two brothers being soulmates?” Sam asked incredulously. He remembered his and Dean’s little visit to heaven a few years ago, and sure they’d shared a heaven, but it was nonetheless shocking to have it stated to plainly like that.

“Heaven orchestrated your births so carefully _because_ you are soulmates. You two needed to be siblings for the future battle between Michael and Lucifer. Soulmates being born together happens more than you think.”

Sam was sure he was gaping like a fish but couldn’t remember how to close his jaw at the moment.

“Getting back to your original question, yes, I think this plan will work precisely because you are soulmates. There would be zero chance of it working otherwise. Essentially, you and Dean share one, albeit large, soul that is split into two pieces; you and Dean as individuals. Your souls fit together like corresponding puzzles pieces. Thus, they are only truly whole when they are together, which is the reason you two literally cannot function properly without the other.

“When we attempt to separate the portion of Dean’s soul under the influence of the Mark of Cain and negate it with a portion of your soul, the remaining portions of your souls will merge and become one again before splitting between the two of you once more.”

“I think I’m getting a headache,” Sam mumbled to himself. It made sense in a weird kind of way but at the same time was so far-fetched he struggled to wrap his head around it. “Cas, if this doesn’t work-”

“We will still do whatever it takes to cure Dean, I know.”

* * *

 

The next day everything was in place to execute the plan. All the ingredients for the spell were mixed and only the incantation was needed to activate it when ready. The only thing missing was Dean.

Cas refused to say how he planned to coerce Dean into coming to the Bunker. But he seemed confident that he would every time Sam asked him about it, and Sam didn’t have much of a choice but to believe him. It’s not like Dean had ever responded to any of his calls or messages _(or even face to face but he wasn’t going to go there right now)_.

Unbeknownst to Sam, Cas _had_ contacted Dean through normal means, by text message actually. The angel had figured Dean would never bother to pick up a call from him, but he would most likely read a text message. The text Cas sent was short and sweet, but sure to make Dean come to the Bunker of his own free will (probably in a rage, Cas admitted to himself): _Sam is mine now._

At one o clock in the morning on the dot Sam and Cas heard banging followed by loud thwack after thwack in the direction of the entrance of the Bunker and knew Dean had at last arrived. The two friends shared one last hopeful look between them for good luck before bracing themselves for the fight to come.

“We’re in here, Dean,” Cas called out in a deliberately belligerent tone. Sam raised an eyebrow in an expression that clearly said ‘ _Why are you taunting him you idiot?’_

Dean strode into the room then, axe in hand and an aura radiating pure murder. His cold eyes instantly set on Cas.

_‘This isn’t Dean,’_ Sam reminded himself. _This isn’t Dean, this isn’t Dean, this isn’t Dean._

“Out of my way,” Dean growled, sounding more animal than human. “He’s _mine._ ” Cas instinctively took a step in front of Sam. He knew Dean was pretty far gone, but hadn’t thought he was _this_ far gone.

That seemed to snap the last bit of control Dean possessed, he roared and lunged at Cas, axe drawn and ready to swing. Cas nodded at Sam; Sam’s cue to begin reading the spell.

Sam reached into his pocket and read the incantation quickly but fluently while the angel acted as a diversion. That had been the weakest part of the plan and Sam’s biggest reason for arguing with Cas because he knew exactly how great a fighter and how clever his brother was, and no one had expected him to come at them with a fucking axe, but he was again reminded that this just wasn’t Dean. His swings were far too wide and clumsy, his whole demeanor practically animalistic.

When the last words of Latin were spoken Sam threw a lit match onto the bowl of ingredients and breathed a shakey sigh of relief. He’d done his part, now it was Cas’ turn. He had just enough time to send a hasty prayer up to whatever passed for God or Heaven nowadays before everything went black.

* * *

 

Castiel watched as Sam and Dean simultaneously fell to the floor, hurrying to catch Sam and gently easing him down. If he gave a slight smirk when he heard Dean fall hard, well, he’d just keep that to himself. And then it began.

A bright white shining light, perhaps the most beautiful soul Cas had ever seen in all his eons of existence, poured forth from Sam’s mouth. It stood in stark contrast to Dean’s soul, which was a dull dark grey in color, but Cas could still see the way the soul shone if he stared hard enough and that gave him hope that this would work. The two souls hovered over their respective bodies restlessly, eager to be where they belonged, but the spell would not allow them to do so until Cas put them back himself.

The main purpose of the spell, and the reason it was worth trading for Rowena’s freedom, was that it would put Sam and Dean to sleep until their souls were back in their bodies instead of letting them roam free while soulless. Cas shuddered to think of what Dean would be like without a soul at the moment.

Because Castiel was an angel he could control souls at will, and that had factored heavily into this plan. Raising a hand towards Dean’s soul Cas got to work.

A soul was an incredibly, almost incomprehensively even to Castiel, intricate thing. Only God himself knew exactly how they worked. So attempting to separate the parts of Dean’s soul infected by the Mark of Cain was no easy feat. It had stuck its roots into the very base of Dean’s soul and branched out from there, much like a tree.

Finding each little gray piece and essentially yanking it out was more exhausting than he’d ever thought possible, but after several long, hard hours he had done it.

What was left of Dean’s soul shone just as brightly as Sam’s, but there was less of it than Cas would have liked. The portion the Mark of Cain had influenced was practically black and whirred around like a storm cloud. Even in this form, the Mark felt angry.

Now Cas raised his other hand towards Sam’s soul and took an equal amount of soul. This went much quicker; he tried to take from Sam’s feelings of guilt and self-loathing that were a big part of Sam’s personality as much possible, but to negate the Mark there had to be a stronger love as well.

Feeling like he was about to collapse, Castiel used the last of his waning strength to propel the portion of Sam’s soul against what was in essence the Mark of Cain itself. The results were catastrophic.

It was as if a lightning storm were taking place before him. Sam’s soul and the Mark battled for dominance, lights flashed and he swore something tried to strike him. Slowly but surely it appeared there was more light than dark, and using strength he didn’t know he possessed, Cas gave the light the push it needed to completely eradicate the darkness. Sparks flew and a horrible thunderous roar echoed throughout the entire bunker.

When the dust cleared there was no trace of either the light or the dark. What remained of Sam and Dean’s souls hovered over their bodies, no worse for wear.

Panting heavily the angel brought the two souls together and watched them become one again. It was marvelous. He could _feel_ their absolute joy, hear them singing and humming in contentment. Together, they shone with a light that was nearly blinding. Cas almost felt sorry that he had to split the soul into two once again, but the knowledge that he would have _both_ his friends back when he did so made him eager to do it.

A flick of the wrist and Sam and Dean’s souls were where they belonged, albeit changed.

* * *

 

Dean came back to himself slowly. Meaningless words and sensations assaulted his subconscious, making him shy away from consciousness. But beneath all that, there was an underlying… peace that he could not remember having felt before, ever.

Not rage. Hostility. Anger. Fury. Hatred. Resentment.

And that was enough to shock him into shooting to his feet, gasping for breath that he didn’t know he needed.

“Dean?” a voice whispered his name, a voice he would know anywhere no matter who he was, how out of his mind he was, or even dead.

“S-Sammy?” Dean felt himself more than heard himself whisper back the automatic response. Everything was too bright and he just didn’t know what he was doing here, what was going, why Cas was standing in front of Sam as if he needed to protect him…

“Dean!” Sam made to run towards his brother but the angel held him back by gripping his shoulder tightly. Something stirred inside Dean, but he ignored it.

“We don’t know the consequences of tearing the Mark away like that,” Cas stated. “We don’t know if the Mark left any long-term effects on Dean’s soul, even if parts of it weren’t black.”

“It’s Dean,” Sam insisted. “Trust me.”

Something passed between the two, something that made Dean’s stomach clench, but after a moment the angel sighed heavily but nodded. His body language remained tense and his eyes locked on Dean, letting him know he was ready to attack at a moment’s notice if need be.

But there wouldn’t be, Dean knew. This was _Sam, his Sammy._ Nothing would change that, hadn’t they just proved that? They’d beaten the damn Mark of Cain, even if he didn’t remember a damn thing about it _(why was that?)_.

Sam took a single tentative step towards him, and then another one and another one until he was sprinting and launching himself into Dean’s waiting arms.

They held each other, shaking, for what could have been minutes, hours, days, even years and they wouldn’t have cared. It was an eternity packed inside one single endless moment. Reluctantly, Dean pulled away to really get a good look at his brother. Saw the swell of Sam’s stomach through his thin tee shirt. And that’s when he remembered.

_“I hope you’re content with your loneliness, because you probably just killed your own son_.”

Dean froze.

“Dean? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Dean-” Sam paused, startled by Dean’s sudden desperate fumbling at his shirt. He lifted it up and stared at the swell that was mercifully still there.

“Cas said—said I—that I, I…” He stuttered, unable to get the words out without hating himself any more than he already did. He looked up and saw the absolute _agony_ in Sam’s eyes and he knew it was true.

He’d killed his own child.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” a broken sound fell from Dean’s lips that could only be described as a whimper.

“Dean, you’re scaring me-” The angel took a step forward-

“NO.” Dean shouted and _ran_ , but only made it a few steps before Cas was on him. “NO, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE, I CAN’T BE HERE, I HAVE TO—I HAVE TO-” _Have to, can’t contaminate you any further, have to leave, have to jump off a cliff, have to kill myself-_

“Dean, hey, hey, it wasn’t you, okay? Calm down. It wasn’t you, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you.” Sam stepped forward, hand on Dean’s shoulder, looking for all the world like he meant it but that couldn’t _possibly_ be true, not after what Dean did. “Don’t leave me, Dean. Don’t leave _us_. Because I can’t… I can’t do this alone. I _can’t_.” Sam said softly and Dean watched as a single tear trailed down his cheek.

Dean fell to his knees.

And on the head of the unborn child he had left, begged for forgiveness.

“Shhh, you don’t have to ask, Dean. There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing at all.”

* * *

 

_Can nobody hear me?_  
_I got a lot that's on my mind_  
 _I cannot breathe_  
 _Can you hear it, too?_

_Leave your shoes at the door, baby_   
_I am all you adore, lately_   
_Come with me and we will run away_

_Can nobody hear me?_   
_I got a lot that's on my mind_   
_I cannot breathe_   
_Can you hear it, too?_   
_Can nobody hear me?_   
_I got a lot that's on my mind_   
_I cannot breathe_   
_Can you hear it, too?_

_-“Hear Me” by Imagine Dragons_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> And now, I know I'm going to regret saying this, but... I may or may not write an epilogue... EVENTUALLY. MAYBE. WE'LL SEE. I have this idea in my head about how things have changed between the three of them and Dean's not sure where he stands and yes more angst. But as of right now, this is the last chapter.  
> I would love you for all eternity if you left a comment on your way out :)


	3. Friggin Cow Boy Boots: An Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the final chapter! I'm somehow not quite satisfied with it, but apparently this is the best I can do...  
> Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me! :)

_I'm not passive but aggressive._  
_Take note it's not impressive._  
 _Empty your sadness like you're dumping your purse on my bedroom floor_  
 _We put your curse in reverse._  
  
_And it's our time now if you want it to be._  
 _Maul the world like a carnival bear set free._  
 _And your love is anemic._  
 _And I can't believe that you couldn't see it coming for me._  
  
_And I still feel that rush in my veins._  
 _It twists my head just a bit to think._  
 _All those people in those old photographs I've seen are dead._  
  
_And in the end_  
 _I'd do it all again._  
 _I think you're my best friend._  
_Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?_  
 _I'm yours._  
 _When it rains it pours._  
 _Stay thirsty like before._  
 _Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?_

_-“The Kids Aren’t Alright” by Fall Out Boy_

* * *

 

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Dean stood in an aisle of the local supermarket, downright baffled. How was this possible? It didn’t make any sense. It boggled his mind how this could ever be considered anything but insanity. How?

_How was it fucking possible to have a million and one options for baby shit?_

He stared at the row upon row upon fucking row of baby supplies before him. Diapers, blankets, food, stuffed animals, toys, clothes, shoes, wipes, shampoos, bubble baths, car seats (no way was he putting one of those things in his Baby), baby proofing junk—it was overwhelming. He glanced at the object in front of him: itty bitty baby cow boy boots. What the fuck does a baby need cow boy boots for? It couldn’t even understand the concept of shoes, so why would it care what the fuck it was wearing on its feet?

He kept staring.

Alright, they were kind of cute. Just a little bit. _Slightly_ cute. Not really that cute at all. But a tiny bit.

Dean dropped the cow boy boots he’d been holding without realizing it like he’d been burned and turned on his heel.

* * *

 

“Got you your special fancy pickles for your sandwich, Sammy,” Dean called as he entered the kitchen carrying an armload of shopping bags. Sam had recently made him buy the reusable ones now that they seemed to be staying in the Bunker for the foreseeable future.

His little brother padded into the room and reached for the bags with a hungry look in his eyes, not even sparing Dean a glance.

“Well, hello to you too,” Dean muttered.

“Showwy,” Sam said around a mouthful of pickle that he’d somehow already managed to open. “fungry.” Dean could barely hear him over the rapid crunching.

“Next time you have a pickle attack could you at least let me know before it’s raining buckets?”

“mmph.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Those are the wrong kind.”

“Holy shit!” Dean jumped and fought to control his racing heart before turning to glare at the angel suddenly standing behind him. “Cas, how many times have I told you about popping in like that? Warn a guy first!”

“Sam does not like the kind with jalapeno spice,” Castiel stated, blatantly ignoring Dean.

“What? What difference does it make?”

“Heavy spices can give Sam indigestion.”

“What?” He whipped around to look at his brother. “Sam is this true?”

Sam shrugged, still chewing. When Dean continued to glare at him he quickly swallowed and replied, “I dunno, I guess, but only a couple times…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asked, face falling. All Sam had to do was tell him, and he would have gotten him any flavor, any brand of pickle he wanted, no matter where he had to go to get it. He would do _anything_ for Sam.

But he supposed going psycho and killing your own child will break a certain amount of trust.

He couldn’t blame Sam for that.

His little brother shrugged again and proceeded to bite into another pickle. “fwogot.”

“It is common knowledge that pregnant people are highly sensitive to spicy foods and should not eat them often.” Cas said, giving Dean a look that made him feel like a child and he did _not_ like that feeling. It made _something_ inside him twitch and he could feel his blood beginning to boil—

“It’s fine, Cas, really. I actually prefer the taste of these ones, even if I can’t have them very often. I’m just happy I got pickles,” Sam said with a tight smile in his big brother’s direction.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” And as if they’d never been there at all, those brief feelings of anger and irritation melted away into nothing the moment he saw Sammy’s smile.

* * *

 

They slept in separate rooms now.

Sure, they’d each had their own room beforehand, a space to call their own for the first time, but more often than not an average night ended with them in Dean’s room. Whether they were fucking or just sleeping, it simply felt more comfortable to sleep in the same room. The sound of their brother breathing next to them was the only lullaby they knew.

The first night he was back Dean had quietly gone to his room to sleep, not surprised when Sam didn’t show up and not surprised at feeling a pang of disappointment. His mind was a mess of grief, shock, confusion, relief, and more confusion. If he was completely honest with himself, the one thing he wanted more than anything was his brother wrapped around him.

 But Dean wasn’t an idiot and realized that would probably never happen again. He didn’t _deserve_ comfort. Fuck, he didn’t deserve his brother at all. He should get down on his knees and thank every god out there that he hadn’t left _(yet)_.

_He had just laid down on his bed when the screaming started._

_Dean sprinted into Sam’s room, gun drawn, and burst in ready to kill. His heart dropped when he only saw his little brother tossing and turning on the bed, having a nightmare._

_“Sam, wake up. It’s just a nightmare. Sammy, calm down, it’s not real. Sammy…” Dean said in hushed tones, trying to wake Sam up with just the sound of his voice, but as that wasn’t working he reached out and gently shook Sam’s shoulder._

_Sam’s eyes shot open and he fell off the bed in his haste to get away from Dean._

_“Don’t touch me! Don’t-” Sam gasped as he backed away until he couldn’t go any further and his back was against the wall._

_“Sam, it’s me,” Dean whispered, making a conscious effort to keep his voice from shaking like it wanted. He swallowed heavily. No, he wasn’t going to fall apart again. He’d already done that once, spectacularly. You couldn’t shatter twice, right? How can you shatter when there are only pieces to begin with?_

_“D-Dean?” Sam looked up at him with wide watery hazel eyes._

_“It’s me, Sammy. It was just a dream. You’re safe now.” God, how he wanted to hold Sam in his arms right now. He would have done it without hesitation before. But he kept his distance and tried to ignore the way Sam’s arms were wrapped around his stomach protectively._

_“Dream. A dream, right,” Sam said, finally looking a little more coherent. Dean gave him another moment to get his bearings before extending his hand in a silent offering. Sam hesitantly took it, only to flinch the moment their skin made contact._

_Dean finished helping his brother to his feet before turning around and leaving without saying another word._

_So that’s how you fall apart a second time._

_You just break into smaller pieces._

And now, as he lay on his cold bed _(it still felt cold to him no matter how many blankets he added)_ he heard the screaming start again, as he knew it would.

He put a pillow over his head and settled in for another sleepless night.

* * *

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask this, but why is he still so small?”

Castiel looked up from the cup of coffee he was pouring himself at his friend seated at the kitchen table. Sam had offered him coffee the many times he came to visit and thus had become quite accustomed to drinking the hot bitter beverage.

“Who? Sam?”

“Yeah. He’s like seven months by now, right? Shouldn’t he be…” Dean mimed holding his arms out a great distance from his stomach and puffing out his cheeks.

Castiel took a sip from his mug before answering. “From what I can tell, and the tests that were done when Sam was in the hospital a couple months ago, the baby is relatively small, but still within the normal range. But when you were… away, Sam never seemed to have much of an appetite. Still doesn’t, I believe. His recurrent bouts of morning sickness did not help matters, however.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean stared into his own mug at the dark brew inside it. “Do you think he’ll…”

“Given time… I think he will.”

Dean nodded to himself. “One more thing, Cas. I’ve got this handled, so you can go ahead and do, uh, whatever it is wayward angels do.”

“Got this handled? Dean, Sam’s having nightmares every night and barely taking care of himself as it is. You’re caught up in your own grief. How is that ‘handling it’?” The angel glared.

“I’m his brother! I think I know what’s best for him.” Dean glared right back, voice taking on a colder tone than usual.

“Yes, that would be _you_. Brushing all of this under the rug isn’t going to help either one of you, and least of all the child!”

Dean stood from his chair and stalked over to Castiel, getting in what Dean normally called his ‘personal space’. Castiel recognized a threat when he saw one.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that when he won’t even let me touch him, huh?” Dean hissed.

“Dean-”

“Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at me, like I’m some ticking time bomb or a failed science experiment-”

“Calm down-”

“That may be, but understand this: Sam is _mine_. Always has been and always will be, and _I_ will be the one to help him through this, one way or another. Back. Off.”

“No one is questioning that, Dean.” Cas stated before spreading his wings and flying off. It would do no good to irritate Dean further at the moment. He would have to talk to Sam about this latest development in Dean’s recovery from the Mark.

* * *

 

_“Daddy! Up! Like an airplane!” The little two year old grinned from ear to ear, Sam’s eyes staring back at him and his own freckles on the little cherubic face._

_“Me too, Daddy, me too!” A perfect copy of the child in front of him tugged on his pants leg._

_These kids were the cutest damn things he had ever seen._

_“Sure thing, Kiddo,” Dean said, picking up the one tugging on this pants leg and putting him on his shoulders._

_“What about me, Daddy?” The first one pouted._

_“You, my little man, are getting the ride of your life,” Dean smiled mischievously and scooped him up in his arms and immediately began running around in the soft grass, making airplane noises as he went._

_The kids were having the time of their lives, screaming and giggling loud enough to wake the dead, but it was music to Dean’s ears. He never wanted it to stop. All too soon, they ran out of energy and had to stop to catch their breath, still laughing._

_“Having fun, Squirt?” Dean smiled as he held the child he’d given the airplane ride to out in front of him._

_“Yeah!” He giggled some more, but then his giggles abruptly turned to shrill screams. Blood, so much blood, and he didn’t know where it was coming from—_

_“Daddy, why? **Why’d you kill me, Daddy?** ”_

Sam wasn’t the only one who woke up screaming every night after that.

It’d probably be better if he just ended it all.

* * *

 

“I’m worried about Dean.” Castiel’s dry voice came clear from behind the slightly ajar door to Sam’s room.

“About what? I mean, sure, he’s been… quieter than normal, and we’ve all got some stuff to work out…”

“That’s the thing, you’re not working it out. You two are burying your grief just like you always do. It’s not healthy for the _three_ of you. I’m worried about Dean’s mental state. I believe the Mark may have left some residual effects on Dean.”

“What residual effects?” Dean heard the sound of feet shuffling and figured Sam had moved closer to Cas.

“Normally, those possessing the Mark of Cain are obsessed with one thing and one thing only: causing as much pain and destruction as possible. When Dean possessed the Mark, he displayed an unhealthy fixation with you, almost on par with the destructive urges that come with the Mark.”

“Are you saying Dean still…”

“Displays these kinds of behaviors? Possibly. When upset he gets territorial. We should keep an eye on him.”

“Whoa, we are not going to make him feel like a prisoner in his own home. Just give it some time and let it go. If he’s a little different now because of the Mark, so be it. ”

“But Sam-”

“I said let it go.” Sam’s voice dropped lower, almost threatening.

Castiel sighed. “I hope you’re right, Sam.” It was like talking to a brick wall. These Winchesters were going to be the end of him, he knew it.

Neither one of them noticed Dean standing right outside the door.

* * *

 

It was the same dream Dean had every night. The same words spoken to him in a broken child’s voice.

_“Daddy, why? **Why’d you kill me, Daddy?** ”_

Then came the blood, dark and hot and sticky as it ran over his hands and spread until it reached his shirt. He swore he could even feel it on his face. Any moment now he would wake up in a cold sweat screaming, and then he would tell himself to calm the fuck down, it was just a dream, but then he’d realize—it wasn’t. He’d really killed the sweet innocent child from his dream.

The screaming usually got louder at that point.

He waited and waited to wake up, but the blood only spread further and further and Dean was sure he was going to drown in it—

And then the scene changed.

Where just a moment ago he stood in a sunny field, now there was a vast darkness. Slowly, a figure came into dim focus. He recognized it instantly— _Sammy._ His little brother was on his knees, looking for all the world like his world was ending. Acting on instinct, Dean ran to him. Sam should never look like that, never. As he neared, a second figure came into view. Tall and lean— _himself?_

“Don’t do this, Dean, please don’t do this,” Sam pleaded. At first, Dean thought Sam was talking to him, but then he realized Sam hadn’t noticed him and must be talking to his clone.

“Don’t do what, Sammy?” Dean asked, crouching down to Sam’s level. Again, Sam acted as if he hadn’t heard him. Well, this was his dream wasn’t it, why couldn’t he at least interact with it? _What a rip-off,_ Dean thought idly.

“I can’t do this, Sam, I’m sorry.” Clone-Dean said with cold eyes. He turned around without another word and headed straight into the darkness.

“Don’t leave me, Dean, DEAN!” Sam cried out as he reached for Clone-Dean’s pants leg, anything. His fingers grasped at nothing but air; Clone-Dean was long gone.

Dean heard the distant sound of Sam sobbing as he shot up in bed, shaking.

* * *

 

Dean shuffled into the kitchen early the next morning; blinking bleary eyes several times so that he could actually see his away around the room. He fumbled around for the button on the coffee machine that turned it on and almost knocked over two other cups attempting to grab a coffee mug for himself.

It was so fucking early even the goddamn birds weren’t awake yet.

But it sure as hell beat lying awake in bed with images of Sam crying, begging, pleading, every time he closed his eyes.

What the hell had that been about? The whole _I-see-my-unborn-child-bleeding-to-death_ thing he got, because he actually _had_ something to do with that. That’s something you have nightmares about. But himself leaving Sam? That was… an impossibility, plain and simple. He couldn’t leave Sam even if he wanted to, not that he ever would want to. He needed Sam like he needed air.

He knew Sam didn’t need him nearly as much, but that was okay. _One_ person fucked up beyond repair was enough in this relationship.

“ ‘s that coffee?” Sam mumbled, voice still rough from sleep, as he padded into the room.

“Yup.” The light on the machine turned green, indicating that it was done brewing. He poured himself a healthy cup. The rich aroma filled his senses and he instantly felt more awake. God, how he loved coffee.

“Can I have some?”

Dean turned and looked pointedly at his brother. Sam’s hair was mussed from sleep and sticking up every which way. His pajama shirt was riding up, exposing his swollen stomach. He looked half asleep.

It almost brought Dean to his knees in that moment just how _perfect_ his brother was.

And how much he didn’t deserve him. Did he even have the _right_ to love Sam after what he’d done?

“Hmmm…” Dean drew out a hum as he loudly slurped his coffee. Sam pouted. Dean caved. “One cup. That’s it. You know you’re not even supposed to be drinking it at all.”

Sam gave him the finger and was filling his own cup with coffee faster than Dean thought possible with that pregnant belly of his.

“Rough night?” Dean asked softly.

“You could say that,” Sam responded, just as softly. He took a sip of the dark brew and Dean swore he saw the exact same expression Sam made when he came cross his face for a brief moment.

“You wanna… talk about it?”

“Nope.”

Dean couldn’t help but flinch when the door to Sam’s room slammed shut, feeling like it reverberated throughout the entire bunker.

* * *

 

“Oh, come on!” Dean heard something clatter to the floor as Sam cursed. He was on his way to his own room when he _just happened_ to pass by his brother’s.

Deciding to take his chances, Dean opened the door slowly to not startle Sam. “You, uh, need some help in here Sammy?”

Sam looked up at him from his spot on the bed with in an irritated expression one step away from a full-on bitch face. “The _stupid_ jar of lotion rolled all the way across the room and that means I have to go over there and bend over to pick it up and _do you know how hard that is_? I know my bump isn’t that big but you try having this _thing_ out there in front of you, constantly throwing you off balance! And now I’m gonna get stretch marks if I don’t put that lotion on, great, _just fucking great!_ ”

It was honestly all Dean could do at the moment to stare at Sam like a deer caught in the headlights. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t for Sam to go on a friggin tirade. Fighting against the urge to just run away _(Sam was kinda scary right now)_ Dean stepped into the room and saw the jar of cocoa butter on the opposite side. He made his way over with a sigh, and back to Sam, holding out the jar.

A peace offering.

Sam took the jar and nodded his head in thanks. Thinking that was the end of it, Dean headed for the door.

“C-could you, um, help me with this?”

Dean turned around and stared at his brother, confused. “With what? The lotion?”

“It feels better when someone else rubs it in, okay?” Sam said defensively.

Shrugging, Dean went back to Sam and took the offered jar. He quickly spread some on his palms as Sam took off his shirt. He found himself struggling to hold back a gasp as the sight of his unborn child in his love’s belly took his breath away.

Never in Dean’s life had he seen something so inherently _beautiful_.

_“Sam,”_ Dean pleaded, but for what, he didn’t know.

But Sam did, and he gave a soft smile as he said in a low voice, “It’s okay.”

Dean hesitantly reached out with trembling hands to touch Sam’s stomach. _Stop shaking, stop shaking._ The first touch was soft and feather-light and then—

_De—_

“What the **fuck** was that?” Dean gasped as he yanked his hand back.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Sam responded looking even more shaken. “It was like a, a _rush_ of—emotions, or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, but where did they come from? I mean, I swore for a second there I was thinking about myself in the third person?”

Sam froze. “What? Almost like you were… someone else?”

“Exactly, what do you-” Dean paused in his pacing. “You don’t think-?”

“We were touching…where else could they have come from?”

“This doesn’t make any sense! How is this even possible? What, did we do some kind of, of Vulcan Mind Meld?”

“Cas did say that our souls would become one if the spell was successful,” Sam said quietly while picking at a loose thread on the hem of his pajama pants.

“Well that’s just _great_ ,” Dean snarled. “As if we didn’t have enough fucking problems dealing with our own issues, now we have to share with the class?”

“If that’s true, maybe we should-”

Dean shook his head. “No Sam, we are going to deal with this together. We are in this mess because I tried to fight the Mark alone. I’m not making the same mistake again. We’re stronger together than we are apart remember?” Dean brushed a lock of hair covering Sam’s eye back, careful not to make skin contact until they figured out how this whole sharing-a-soul thing worked.

“You mean it? You’re not going to leave me?” Sam whispered, looking up at Dean with sparks of hope in his eyes, and, against all odds, love.

“Of course not.” Dean balked. “Why would you even think that? You’re not alone in this, Sammy, don’t you know that by now?”

A mischievous smile crept across Sam’s features. “Does that mean you’ll get me ice cream?”

* * *

 

On his way to the frozen foods aisle, Dean happened to pass by the baby aisle again. They really would have to start buying some of that crap soon. A particular item caught the corner of his eye and he stopped. _Why not?_

He bought the fucking cow boy boots.

* * *

 

_Oh, tear ducts and rust_  
_I'll fix it for us_  
 _We're collecting dust_  
 _But our love's enough_  
 _You're holding it in_  
 _You're pouring a drink_  
 _No nothing is as bad as it seems_  
 _We'll come clean_  
  
_Just give me a reason_  
 _Just a little bit's enough_  
 _Just a second we're not broken just bent_  
 _And we can learn to love again_  
 _It's in the stars_  
 _It's been written in the scars on our hearts_  
 _That we're not broken just bent_  
 _And we can learn to love again_

_-“Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink feat. Nate Ruess_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it.  
> Pleeeeeeease let me know what you thought of it in a comment! Offering free love here!


	4. Epilogue to the epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Here I am, with what is basically an epilogue to the epilogue. It's super duper short, but ya know. Just a glimpse in the daily life of the Winchesters. Hope ya like it anyway!

“Get back here, you little shit!”

“No! Never!”

“I’m going to beat your ass if you don’t come out right now!”

“You can try!”

“Johnathan Henry Winchester!”

John hid deep in the bushes, far out in the forest, totally out of the line of sight of his father. Just like he had taught him. Through them, he watched his father search in all the wrong places.

“You will learn the hard way not to spill your kool-aid in my Baby! Show yourself!”

 He grinned. His father was totally clueless. Now he just had to wait til his dad went to search a different section of the forest—

“Gotcha!” John squealed as he was tackled from behind by familiar hands. They lifted up his shirt and tickled his sensitive ribs; John shook with full body laughter.

“Daddy Dean, no! I can’t breathe!” John shrieked between bouts of laughter.

“This is your punishment for being a brat,” Dean growled playfully and proceeded to tickle his son to within an inch of his life. When he felt John had learned his lesson (i.e. red-faced from oxygen deprivation from laughing too hard) he threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, earning him more boisterous laughter.

* * *

 

“I have caught the perpetrator and brought him in for questioning,” Dean grinned as he lightly threw his son into the seat at the end of the kitchen table.

Sam smiled back. “Now for his sentencing.” He grabbed something from the counter and turned back to his son. “I sentence you… to _homemade cupcakes. You must eat them allllll,_ ”he whispered loudly and dramatically. With a flourish he set a piping hot pan of chocolate cupcakes in front of the beaming child. Two cupcakes were alight with seven lit candles each.

“ _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,_ ” Dean began, and Sam joined in seconds later. John had always loved his Daddy Dean’s voice. He had very vague memories of this voice singing him to sleep every night without fail, even before he was born, he was sure, and he cherished them. He closed his eyes to savor the moment.

When his parents were finished with the last note he blew out the candles in a single breath, soaking in their applause with a wide smile.

“What did you wish for?” Sam asked as he passed out the paper plates so they could enjoy their treats.

“I can’t tell you, or my wish won’t come true,” John chastised.

“Well, _excuse_ us,” Dean mocked. John threw his cupcake wrapper at him and Dean threw his back. This continued until Sam threatened to take their cupcakes away.

John munched happily on his cupcake, chocolate frosting smeared across his cherubic face, until he paused, looking incredibly thoughtful for a seven year old. “Daddy Dean, Daddy Sam, why do we always have two cupcakes with candles on them?”

His parents froze in their chewing. They looked at each other intensely, gazing into each other’s eyes without a single word or moving an inch.

“Are you guys talking without using words again?”

Dean looked at him with a smile that was somehow sad. John didn’t like it. “Yeah, we are. And we have two cupcakes every year because one is for your brother Robert, remember?”

The child nodded sagely. “Yeah, he went to Heaven early, didn’t he?”

Sam sucked in a shaky breath before reaching out a finger to wipe away the chocolate streaked across John’s face. “Yeah, he did.” He forced a smile much like Dean’s and got up from the table, walking out of the room. The sound of a door softly being closed echoed throughout the silent bunker.

“Is Daddy Sam sad cause of me?” John asked quietly.

Dean shook his head back and forth rapidly, succeeding in making John giggle. “Nope. Nuh-uh. He’s a little down in the dumps, but not because of you. Okay? Now, what do you say we ambush him for threatening to take away our cupcakes?”

“Yeah! And tomorrow can we practice with the shotgun?”

“Uh, you’ll have to ask Daddy Sam about that one…”

“But, ‘it’s the family business.’”

“Don’t quote me to me, dammit. You’re too much like your other dad.”

John simply looked up at him with imploring puppy eyes, even sticking out his lower lip for full effect.

“Yeah, way too much like Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so so so much to anyone who has read, commented, and kudosed! It's more appreciated than you know! I would love to hear any thoughts on this chapter :3

**Author's Note:**

> So, should I add one more chapter to fix this?  
> Pleeeease let me know what you think! Don't make me beg, cause I'll do it.


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